


The Shadows at Her Will

by the_rck



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, BDSM, Dark Ginny Weasley, F/M, M/M, Multi, POV Villain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-23 11:21:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10718367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_rck/pseuds/the_rck
Summary: Tom was quite sure this wasn't how things had been supposed to work, but, in the end, he wasn't unhappy about it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AFTanith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AFTanith/gifts).



> The title comes from "In Shadow," a poem by Hart Crane.
> 
> The first two chapters are gen while the last two absolutely aren't. The story diverges from canon during The Chamber of Secrets, and there are a lot of events and details in the more than a decade between chapter two and chapter three that I'm not filling in because they're not relevant.
> 
> Thanks to Sel and prinzenhasserin for brainstorming help, to prinzenhasserin for first reading and beta reading, and to HopeofDawn for beta reading.

When Tom had planned to make a horcrux, there were a lot of things about _being_ a horcrux that never occurred to him. He’d somehow thought that the horcrux would be just a thing, like what was left after trimming his nails. He’d never expected to be trapped, fully aware but helpless, inside the horcrux.

He counted himself fortunate that he’d been dormant, unconscious, for most of the decades since he had made the diary into a trap for himself. Now, however, he was fully awake and horribly frustrated. His only connection to the world was the words of an eleven year old girl. He hoped to gain the use of her senses and her magic, but it was taking longer to insinuate himself into her mind than he had assumed when she had awakened him.

He had to keep reminding himself that he couldn’t afford to frighten her. Her current desires were… tedious. She wanted friendship. She wanted help with her homework. She wanted advice. He tried to offer the temptation of more advanced magic, of tricks she could use against her brothers or against the horrible potions professor she loathed, but she balked at that, pointing out that she’d have to explain how she knew those things.

Which Tom had known might be a problem but had judged wasn’t actually _his_ problem.

There were magics that she wanted to learn, but most of them had to do with enhancing her appearance and charisma, not things Tom had ever bothered with. Artificial advantages of that sort were too easily taken away. Tom could teach her how to flatter, how to discover what mattered to other people, though. That was something that had apparently never occurred to her.

Tom was certain he hadn’t been anywhere near as foolish at eleven. He put aside memories of boasting to Professor Dumbledore and told himself that, while he’d have been fascinated by a book that wrote back to him, that knew things, he’d have guessed that it wanted something from him. Nothing came free.

Even if Ginny Weasley hadn’t realized it yet.

****

Tom wasn’t at all pleased with what Ginny knew about wizarding history between when he’d made the horcrux and when her lifeforce and attention had awakened him. She didn’t know much at all, and what she did know was beyond worrying. The self that had left him behind had gone on to accumulate power, to terrify people, but as far as Tom could tell that other self had had no real plan, no end beyond being feared and killing anyone who opposed him.

That other self had died, but not entirely. Something had happened between Tom’s other self and a small child named Harry Potter. Ginny said that his other self had cast the killing spell, but as far as she knew, there hadn’t been any witnesses but the preverbal child. Tom wasn’t entirely convinced the account could be relied on.

That child, a boy named Harry Potter, was tantalizingly nearby. Like Ginny, he was a Gryffindor, and he was best friends with one of her brothers. Ginny’s crush on Harry who was a year older than she was painfully obvious to anyone who bothered to talk to her.

It was Tom’s good luck that nobody else bothered to talk to the girl. He was able to draw her out about Potter’s everyday doings and about what her brother had said about him. That had led him to the truly disturbing information about his other self. Tom didn’t completely understand Ginny’s account of what her brother had told her about events of the previous year, but the idea of being reduced to a parasite hiding under a turban on the back of some pathetic weakling’s skull appalled him. And drinking unicorn blood? Surely there were less crippling options. He had been thinking that he needed to find that bit of himself and learn what it knew, but he was by no means sure he wanted to take that kind of curse upon himself. For survival, possibly, but not for information.

And he was a little worried that his older, more experienced self might be able to kill or enslave or simply absorb him.

Ginny had never heard of a horcrux, and Tom didn’t want to explain them to her because she might realize what he’d done to put himself into the diary. Without seeking out his other self, he had no way of knowing how many horcruxes there were, where they were, or even what they were. He knew the options he had considered, but consideration didn’t mean having followed through. There might be no other horcruxes, or there might be a hundred. They might be artifacts of power or turds in a field.

Well, that last was unlikely. He doubted he’d have lowered himself to that extent.

****

The first time what Ginny wanted overrode what he wanted, Tom was appalled. She thought the chickens were fascinating and wanted to know why her family didn’t have any. “They’d be dead useful for the eggs!”

He tried to force her to raise her wand to kill them. She ought to have been that far under his thrall. She ought to have been completely unaware of what she was doing.

Instead, she asked, “Why do you want me to kill them?” She looked around, and he realized she was counting the sleeping chickens. “I didn’t think you were like my brothers!”

If Tom had had teeth to clench, they’d have shattered under the pressure of not yelling at the brat. “Every year,” he told her, making up lies as fast as he could, “Hogwarts needs a challenge for the students, for the ones with a destiny. I didn’t like to tell you before because I thought you might feel used, but the whole reason I’m here at all is to arrange a challenge that the teachers don’t know is coming.”

Her eyes went wide. “Oh! For Harry, then?”

Tom made himself count to ten before answering. “Of course! Who else? Part of the test is if he can spot it’s you, in his own House, his best friend’s sister even.” Harry Potter might as well serve some sort of purpose beyond being a puzzle that Tom couldn’t currently solve. “Or if anyone else sees it, will Harry believe them? And what will he-- or they-- do about it.”

“I don’t want anyone to get hurt.” Ginny looked around at the chickens again. “Can’t we just make it look like I killed them and send them off somewhere else?”

Tom had rather been looking forward to killing something as a way of dealing with his frustrations over being forced to court Ginny’s good will, but he supposed that disappearing chickens would do well enough to hint at terrors to come. Time enough for murder when he had full control of Ginny.

Tom was very glad he’d studied and excelled at magics well beyond the Hogwart’s curriculum. Sending living objects elsewhere without harming them was a form of apparition, and that was supposed to be limited to oneself and what one was touching and should be completely impossible on school grounds. _But I am the Heir to Slytherin. All things are possible for me._

Under Tom’s coaching, Ginny mastered the necessary spells well enough that Tom could force them to work when she cast them. She didn’t tell him where to send the chickens, so he dropped them into the orphanage where he had grown up. He hoped that that would upset some people. The idea that the building might no longer exist never occurred to him.

The whole thing took much longer than Tom had originally planned, so Ginny got no sleep that night. She laughed and said that her yawning might be a clue if anyone was paying attention. “It’s clever to pick a first year,” she told him. “Nobody looks at us at all.”

Tom refrained from telling her that someone older would have been infinitely more useful to him.

****

Given the girl’s reaction to killing chickens, Tom should have expected her to balk at sending the basilisk out. He should also have expected that he wouldn’t be able to force her into it.

At least, as far as he could tell, she hadn’t noticed him trying to force her.

He tried to think of the right words to persuade her into obedience. He tried to think of a way he could hurt her, could punish her. Then he tried to think of a way to get her to pass the diary to someone else, someone controllable. If he’d been able to, he’d have snarled and set something on fire.

Maybe she’d let him teach her other spells, and he could gain control of her that way?

At least she liked the basilisk. She said that she wished that her brother, Charlie, could meet it. She thought he’d be thrilled.

Tom wondered how many brothers the girl had.

She didn’t realize that they were speaking parseltongue but did say that she wanted to learn the language. Apparently Charlie said that creatures were more likely to be friendly if one spoke their language.

Ginny giggled and added, “Or at least try. Charlie’s kind of terrible with languages. Bill’s much better.”

Tom wondered how long he’d have to put up with her before he had drawn enough power to escape the diary. He expected she’d die then, and he let his mind wander over the ways it might happen.

But he wasn’t getting stronger the way he expected. He started trying to reach out for life force that wasn’t Ginny’s. Surprisingly, that worked better. He was pretty sure that he could gain power that way, enough to manifest. It might take a little longer than he’d originally expected, but it would work as long as the girl kept carrying the diary while she was around other people.

Then he realized that, while his power didn’t decrease when she wasn’t nearby, he started becoming stupider very rapidly. He hoped that becoming physically alive again would remove that dependency, but nothing about this process was working the way he’d expected based on his research.

Possibly what he’d read had been… incomplete. He really should have persuaded someone else to try the process first so that he could see where problems might lie.

So he set out to make Ginny love him. That meant learning a lot of things he hadn’t bothered with about her life. He’d focused his previous questions about the people around her on her professors as the greatest threat, the ones most likely to notice something off about the diary or about Ginny’s behavior, and on Harry Potter as the one who had defeated his older self.

He went back and forth between fear of Potter, contempt for his older self’s apparent weakness, and complete puzzlement as to how such a thing was possible. Even the most incompetent of wizards should not lose a fight with a toddler.

****

Tom glanced over his shoulder once to assure himself that Ginny was both still asleep and still floating along behind him. She’d given him her wand without hesitation when he emerged from the diary, and he hadn’t been surprised in the least to discover that it answered to him as well as his own wand ever had. He’d have to study that eventually. It certainly meant something.

Every spell he’d tried had worked as well as he’d hoped, and Ginny had applauded. He showed off a little as he imagined a fond older brother might. He thought that was how Ginny viewed him and hoped that would make the next steps easier. He might or might not be able to sever the magical bonds between them without harming himself, and he had decided some time before that it would be easier to deal with Ginny like she was certain to be a permanent fixture in his life.

If she ended up not needing to be-- Well, he could certainly take steps then, and those would be easier if she loved him.

After about an hour of experimentation, he asked her, “Do you trust me?”

Her expression became very serious, and she nodded.

“I’m going to do a spell so that we can always find each other.” It was a lie, and it wasn’t. Tom didn’t currently know such a spell. He wanted one. He’d make it himself if necessary. “I just need you to be asleep first.”

She stifled a giggle with a hand over her mouth. “It really is very late. I don’t want to think what Professor McGonagall will say if I fall asleep in her class.”

Tom knew that Ginny was never going back to any Hogwarts class, but he’d decided that, even if Ginny trusted him, she’d balk at leaving without a better story than he’d managed to come up with yet.

But, if she was asleep, anything at all might have happened. If he got her far enough away, she’d have no way to check his story, not for a very long time. She was brave and bright and talented, but she was also only eleven.

He’d been a little afraid that he wouldn’t be able to put her to sleep with a spell. It had seemed entirely possible that she’d be immune to his magic. He suspected that her consent mattered.

He wouldn’t wake her until they were somewhere on the Continent. He had that long to come up with a solid story that she’d believe about why they were no longer at Hogwarts.

He smiled at the sleeping girl before turning away. Fortunately, the corridors were empty at three in the morning. Out of courtesy to Ginny, he had decided not to leave any corpses behind.

She still thought him kind.

Professor McGonagall took three minutes to answer her door. When she opened it, she had her wand ready. She lowered it a little on seeing him, and Tom was pleased that he’d guessed right, that his robes would pass well enough.

She blinked and frowned as she realized that she didn’t recognize him. “Who--?”

Tom saw the moment when she realized that she did, in fact, recognize him.

She started to raise her wand to attack, but he was just a bit faster.

“Imperio.” He made the word sound casual even while he put all of his power behind it. He’d gotten enough of a sense of her personality while he was still trapped to be sure that that would enrage her.

She fought, of course, but he’d surprised her and pressed that advantage. She had more precision, more experience, but he had more power, both his own and Ginny’s, and had used the spell before.

He had never doubted the outcome. He was sure he had never doubted it.

And, really, all the other potential targets were too far from Gryffindor Tower. He’d have enjoyed playing a little with Ginny’s most hated teacher, Professor Snape, and the potions classroom certainly had enough worth stealing to be a tempting target, but the dungeons were a long way to go with Ginny in tow.

Once he, the professor, and Ginny were all inside McGonagall’s quarters, Tom looked around. “I didn’t want Ginny to see this part,” he said. He hadn’t decided yet whether or not he was going to let McGonagall remember any of this at all. He lowered Ginny gently onto McGonagall’s rumpled bed.

He turned back to McGonagall. “She and I will be well away from Hogwarts by the time everyone else wakes. I just need someone to--” He hesitated, considering his words. “She will want her things and her familiar. I expect both of us would like to have some food for our travels.” He sat on the bed near Ginny and wondered if McGonagall would ever be willing to sleep there again.

Assuming he let her remember.

“Sit,” he told her.

She did.

“Ginny is eleven and knows nothing of the Muggle world anyway, and my knowledge--” The word felt bitter in his mouth, and he had to fight down an urge to make McGonagall hurt to balance it. “My knowledge is half a century out of date. I’m fairly certain that we’ll need money, and I would rather not draw the attention of the Ministry just yet.” He looked at the wand in his hand then raised it so that she could see it, too. “I’m quite sure I’m of age, but this is hers. Is the Trace on the wand or on the child? Or on the general location?”

She fought to swallow the words. “The child.” She sounded as if she were choking.

He nodded. The general location would have been better, but there was certain to be something he could do about the Trace on Ginny. “I want to hire a… witch of good character, I suppose. Ginny will need a woman to tell her all of those things that girls need to learn.” He had only the vaguest idea of what that might mean, and he had no particular interest in learning. “I thought about taking you or one of the other teachers or even her mother, but she knows all of you. I think she’d realize eventually that I’d coerced you. She’s still sentimental enough to be bothered by it.”

McGonagall’s face showed clearly that she understood that he wouldn’t be bothered in the slightest.

He hoped it wouldn’t occur to her that he might, in some way, be vulnerable to Ginny’s whims, that her anger might be more than a minor irritation. He smiled. “She’s a charming child. I’m very curious to see what I can make her into.” He put enough twist into the words that McGonagall could draw the conclusions that would horrify her most. Better that than the truth.

“Go and pack Ginny’s things. Use someone else’s trunk if you see or think of one better than hers that you can get without drawing attention. More space on the inside would be better. Pack us food, too, with spells to keep it fresh.” He considered for a moment. “If the library has maps or books on travel for wizards, either in Britain or elsewhere in the world, I want those, too. When you come back, write down any names you can think of of witches who might suit our needs and not be missed.” He stood and stretched. “It feels so good to have a body again!”

McGonagall stood.

He gave her mind a little more of a push to keep her from showing any sign of her unhappiness in her behavior and posture. “You’re doing a good thing, Professor. Think of how many people I might have to kill if I have to do this the hard way. All of those children...”

She shuddered as the Imperius took full effect. “My trunk--” she said.

He shook his head. “I’ll be using that.” He saw her out the door then sealed it so that it would only open for her or for him. He found her trunk easily enough. As he’d hoped, it was much larger on the inside. He might even be able to hide Ginny in it in an emergency. He pulled out all of McGonagall’s things then took the trunk out of the room.

He needed to find things to steal. He very much doubted that McGonagall had much money on hand, but the school itself held fortunes. If he was careful. Very, very careful.

Tom smiled. He was always careful.


	2. Chapter 2

When Ginny disappeared from Hogwarts, Charlie rushed home to help look for her. Ginny’s hand on the family clock continued pointing to ‘traveling,’ so his parents were slightly less worried than they might have been otherwise. Charlie stayed three months and ended up traveling with the rest of his family to visit Bill in Egypt after their father unexpectedly came into some money by winning the Daily Prophet’s Crossword. He sat with his mother on Ginny’s birthday in August, neither of them saying anything, both of them watching the clock and the doorway and hoping.

In the end, his mother ordered him back to Romania. “They won’t hold your job forever,” she told him. “Ginny-- Well, you have a life, too, and that matters.”

He remembered those words later with more than a little bitterness. Not that she’d known. Not that anyone had known.

He hadn’t seen his parents or any of his brothers again for almost a decade, and none of them had quite forgiven him for the choices he’d made in the interim. He wasn’t sure any of them could have done better, but it wasn’t as if he-- or they-- would ever know.

Several months after Ginny disappeared, Charlie came back to his cabin after a long day at work. It was his turn to cook, and he wanted a wash first. He shared the cabin with three other junior employees, but he thought he might be the first back that evening and so not have to wait for the shower.

The cabin shouldn’t have been dark, but it wasn’t until he smelled blood that he thought about it at all. By that time, he was two steps inside. He raised his wand and started to back up.

“I wouldn’t.”

Charlie didn’t recognize the voice. He was certain the speaker was male and equally certain that he’d never heard the voice before. He went still for a moment then tensed in preparation for throwing himself backward through the door. Maybe, if he went flat, whatever spells might come after would miss.

“Charlie--”

Charlie froze. He recognized this voice. Leon was one of his roommates, the youngest. He’d been working with them a little less than a year. Leon sounded like he was in pain, severe pain, like he’d been screaming.

Surely, someone would have heard that?

“I want you, not him,” the stranger said. “You look a bit like her.”

Her? Charlie swallowed hard. He might have brought himself to abandon Leon, but there were only two people the stranger might mean, and Charlie doubted he was referring to Charlie’s mother.

“But he did tell me how to block the alarm.” The stranger sounded amused. “He didn’t want to, but I can be… persuasive.”

“What the hell do you want?” Charlie was pleased that his voice remained steady.

“Lumos.” 

Charlie blinked twice before everything came into focus. 

Leon was at the table with both of his hands pinned to the surface with knives through his wrists. There was blood on his face, too, and streaks of tears.

Charlie only gave Leon the most momentary attention. If he looked too long, the horror of it would paralyze him, and that wouldn’t save either of them. Instead, Charlie focused on the young man standing just beyond the table.

Charlie thought he must be near Percy’s age, probably older if the Trace weren’t still on him, but not much older. He had dark hair and eyes and was so pale that Charlie thought he hadn’t been in the sun for months.

Charlie’s mouth and throat were dry. He kept his wand raised. “Who are you?” Lessons from his childhood flashed through his mind. He remembered his parents telling him what to do if the Death Eaters came. Run, they’d said, never mind anyone already caught. Just run. He had to stomp hard on the urge to flee.

But this boy was too young to be a Death Eater.

“My name’s Tom.” The stranger put a hand on Leon’s shoulder and squeezed. His eyes didn’t leave Charlie’s face. “I probably won’t kill him, tempting as it is. If you cooperate, I’ll just obliviate him the way I did McGonagall.”

Which, Charlie knew, left open what Tom would do if Charlie didn’t cooperate.

“She’s homesick.” Tom frowned as if he couldn’t grasp the concept. His expression sharpened, and Charlie read anger in it. “She thinks the world of you. You’ll do.”

Ginny. Charlie’s guts turned to ice as he recognized jealousy in Tom’s voice.

“She’s a lot of trouble.” Tom bared his teeth. “You really, really don’t want me to decide that she’s too much trouble.”

If you could, Charlie thought, you would have already. The hand on the clock had never shifted to ‘mortal peril.’ Not once.

He hoped his mother wasn’t looking at the clock at that moment.

Charlie narrowed his eyes and tried to make his mind work beyond the immediate crisis. If he went with Tom, he would see Ginny. He was nearly certain that was what Tom intended. If he captured Tom, they could get Ginny back.

Could he capture Tom? Tom looked young, but he’d somehow gotten past the barriers and traps meant to stop poachers. He’d kept Leon from raising the alarm and from being heard.

Charlie offered Leon a silent apology and cast a spell with as little warning as he could manage.

Tom’s superior smile didn’t waver until the spell hit Leon, knocking him unconscious, just as Charlie threw himself backward out the door and let himself roll down the gentle slope outside. He was on his feet and behind a tree not even two seconds later.

Charlie really hoped he’d guessed right and that Tom wouldn’t take the seconds he’d need to kill Leon. If he did, at least Leon wouldn’t be awake to see it coming.

Charlie’s wandwork had never reached the level of Bill’s, but he’d been old enough during the war to have internalized the idea that he might someday have to fight for his life or for someone else’s. He hadn’t used those skills much since coming to Romania, but he still had enough to give a fair accounting of himself.

Tom was willing to use the Unforgivables, except for the killing curse, and Charlie wasn’t. Tom was also faster with a spell and skilled at silent casting. But Charlie knew the terrain. If he’d actually been trying to escape rather than to catch Tom, he’d almost certainly have gotten away. 

As it was, Charlie thought he had come close to winning. Maybe. At the very least, he had the satisfaction of seeing Tom discover why pissing off a dragon was a terrible idea. 

Three times.

He rather thought that was worth the Cruciatus after Tom caught him.

 

For months after, Charlie wondered why no one had intervened in his duel with Tom. Realizing, later, that they had certainly tried horrified him more than thinking that they’d abandoned him.

At least there had been too many witnesses for Tom to obliviate all of them. Charlie wouldn’t have vanished with no explanation. Not like Ginny. It was slim comfort, but he’d take what he could get.

And maybe someone had gotten a good enough look at Tom for the aurors to figure out who he was.

Tom kept Charlie trapped in a trunk. He supplied Charlie with adequate food and water and even managed sanitary facilities. After that first rage induced Cruciatus, Tom hadn’t hurt Charlie at all.

“I’m not letting Ginny see you until I know you’ll behave,” Tom told Charlie early on. “She thinks I’m kind, and it’s not time for her to realize otherwise. That puts the Imperius off the table. She’d be sure to notice.”

Charlie regarded Tom through narrowed eyes. He was pretty sure that his desire to wrap his hands around Tom’s throat and squeeze showed clearly in his face.

Tom frowned. “I thought you’d be easy. Everything she said made you sound like Hagrid.” He sounded deeply aggrieved.

Charlie bared his teeth and didn’t say anything. He wondered how Tom knew Hagrid. Tom wasn’t a Hogwarts student because all the other students had been accounted for after Ginny vanished, but Tom was very definitely English, judging by his lack of accent.

Tom left Charlie alone for a while then, and Charlie took time to think. He didn’t believe that a man who would stick knives into Leon just for the hell of it when Veritaserum or even the Imperius would work better would keep a twelve year old girl around out of affection. Going to the trouble to kidnap Charlie to help Ginny’s homesickness-- assuming Tom had told the truth-- was even more out of character.

So Tom needed Ginny alive and nearby. He probably even needed Ginny happy and unharmed. Charlie fought not to think of the horror of his baby sister trusting Tom. Did she even know that he’d kidnapped her? Maybe she’d gone with him willingly.

But that would imply long acquaintance. How could Percy have missed that?

Charlie closed his eyes and put that out of his mind as irrelevant. The real question was how far Charlie could push Tom before Tom decided that killing Charlie was worth Ginny’s unhappiness.

Tom gave Charlie a way to watch Ginny. Charlie hadn’t heard of a spell that could do that or of a way to make something that could do that, and it frightened him more than a little that Tom did know. Charlie was only a little reassured when he realized that Tom hadn’t been completely sure it would work.

Tom was very different with Ginny. He acted fond and brotherly, and Charlie let go of a fear he hadn’t even let himself acknowledge. Tom didn’t ever touch Ginny in a way that Charlie wouldn’t have, and Ginny didn’t expect him to.

There was a woman with them, a witch. Ginny called her Miss Layton, and Tom called her Liza. Her face, when Ginny wasn’t looking, was blank and unhappy, and she was utterly obedient to Tom’s suggestions. She prepared the food and generally made sure that Ginny had what she needed.

Charlie had never seen anyone under the Imperius, but he had no doubts that was what he was seeing now. He pushed aside his nausea and made himself feel glad that Tom valued Ginny enough to bother. Ginny had to be Charlie’s priority, too.

Miss Layton was already dead.

Charlie was pretty certain that Tom had no idea how much information he was actually giving Charlie. Probably Tom was still thinking that Charlie was Hagrid-- Trusting, kind, gullible, always putting others first.

Charlie wasn’t Hagrid.

But he did weep when he realized that Ginny was bound to Tom with more than affection. He’d hoped that, somehow, he could get to her and apparate to-- well, anywhere away from Tom. Now, he wasn’t sure what prolonged separation would do to her.

Bill would have known, of course. Charlie didn’t usually regret not having Bill’s skills-- Charlie had his own, after all-- but in this case, he was bitter over what he lacked.

He slept on that. When he woke, he knew he’d bargain with Tom. He’d make what promises he had to. If Tom didn’t ask for an Unbreakable Vow, probably several, Charlie would be beyond astonished. Charlie would have to find wiggle room. He hoped Tom didn’t realize that very specific promises were easier to work around than something more general.

If Charlie couldn’t separate Ginny from Tom, he’d have to make sure that, in the end, she ruled Tom rather than he her.


	3. Chapter 3

Tom had another surprise for Ginevra. He was always watching for things she’d enjoy, and he thought she’d like this one. Or, at least, not be annoyed by it. If it didn’t please, didn’t appeal, they didn’t need to keep it, but he thought she wouldn’t punish him for guessing wrong. He’d gone to great pains to keep her from knowing that he had the item in hand, though, so she’d definitely be surprised.

And likely, even if she didn’t want the gift, she’d still be pleased that he’d tried to find the right gift for their anniversary, and she’d certainly realize that he’d worked hard to obtain it. Some of their best play came when she knew he’d tried very hard to please her.

Ginevra enjoyed sweets, so he had found the best sources all over the world. She adored obscure books of dark magic and unique artifacts, so he’d looted the collections of every family of note. Tom knew her tastes in all of that. 

He also knew what she found attractive in a man or a woman as a potential toy and that she seldom exerted herself to look for such individuals. That was up to Tom. He prided himself on finding people who’d be interesting rather than just people who’d be pretty. Tom thought this one might go beyond interesting, might actually be something Ginevra would want to keep.

And nothing gave him greater pleasure than Ginevra being happy.

He smiled at the people around them and allowed himself to enjoy their reactions. Even after all these years, he still craved their fear. It was the only thing that balanced the tedium of the toadies and the long hours of showing his minions that he was still strong enough to squash them.

Tom also enjoyed watching newcomers to his court realize that Ginevra was actually quite as dangerous as he was. Underestimating her seemed to be an automatic thing, especially for men. They so often seemed to think that Tom would favor them over her.

He wondered what they’d think if they realized that all of his policies served her ends. Tom didn’t care about what the world they ruled looked like. Ginevra did.

She was still learning how to make the changes she wanted and deciding what those changes should be-- she was, after all, only twenty five-- but she had grown up outside of the restrictions of the wizarding world, and much of the magic Tom had taught her had been aimed at her learning to make her own spells. She thought less like a member of the Wizarding World than Tom did, than any Muggleborn who’d completed the course at Hogwarts did.

She wanted the entire world, so they’d get it for her.

He’d taught her that spells were straitjackets of sorts. They made the flow of power predictable and much more easily controlled, but they also limited what was possible. Ginevra had been without a wand until she was fourteen, but she had not stopped using magic. When she acquired a wand, it was merely a tool that she could use if she wanted rather than something enemies could take from her to incapacitate her.

Tom liked to think that he’d done that for her deliberately.

Tom had let her discover what was possible and then followed in her footsteps. He had been careful not to let her realize that she was taking the risks while he reaped the rewards. She thought for many years that he was helping her to grow and that he adored her.

And somewhere along the line, he actually had become fond of her. He’d have kept her, he’d have partnered with her, even if he hadn’t needed her alive and happy any longer.

They had traveled first to Eastern Europe in search of the fragment of soul that had possessed Quirrell. That had taken more time than Tom had expected, almost a full year, because the thing didn’t react or make decisions the way Tom would. Finding the differences pleased him, even as the delays frustrated him. He didn’t want to think that that Lord Voldemort was his future or in any way a part of him at all. 

In the end, they’d only found the wraith because one of the creature’s servants had come looking for it.

Tom hadn’t been able to touch the wraith directly, but Ginevra had. She had acted as his proxy to extract the thing’s knowledge. They’d taken what they could get and then locked the thing in a bottle like one of King Solomon’s djinni. Tom hadn’t wanted to risk letting it loose or trying to absorb it, but he hadn’t been sure what destroying it would do to him.

And the old bastard deserved it for fucking up his life as badly as he had.

The servant, Peter Pettigrew, had given his allegiance to Tom without much hesitation and had proven to hold a great deal of information Tom could put to use. That was the only reason why Pettigrew had survived when he revealed to Tom that he’d been a Weasley family pet for more than a decade.

Ginevra still didn’t know. Tom had made it clear to her family that she was never to know.

Most of her family lived with them now. Unwillingly for the most part, though they did seem to realize how lucky they were that Ginevra valued them. 

They’d acquired Charlie early, even before they found the wraith. Tom had hoped that Charlie might ease the girl’s homesickness which was having a very definite effect on Tom’s ability to function.

Charlie had fought. His spellcasting hadn’t been all that impressive, but he’d known the terrain, and he’d known the dragons. Tom now had an immense respect for the destructive power of dragons. Charlie’s influence was probably why Ginevra so seldom killed. What she did was often worse, but Charlie had convinced her that corpses were useless items.

Charlie was nothing at all like Hagrid.

Charlie had been enough trouble-- and enough evidence of Ginny’s power over Tom-- that Tom avoided the question of the rest of the Weasley family until Ginny became Ginevra and ordered him to bring them to her.

That he had obeyed had told them both how far the power in their relationship had shifted.

Tom had never managed to find Ginevra’s oldest brother, and one of the twins had escaped the trap that captured Percy, the other twin, and their parents. No one was sure which twin was where, but Tom supposed it didn’t actually matter. Tom hadn’t managed to capture Ron until three years ago, but that had happily coincided with Ginevra’s birthday. Well, happily until Ron slapped her and called her a whore.

Tom had enjoyed spending an hour or two with Ron after Ginevra was smiling again, and Ron hadn’t been that stupid since.

Bill and whichever twin was with him were an ongoing problem now. They both realized that Tom’s minions didn’t dare kill them, so they were willing to do things that would be suicide for anyone else. Tom was quite sure that the goblins were providing covert assistance to the pair, but Ginevra had told repeatedly him that she wasn’t willing to accept an economic collapse as the price of bringing in her brothers, so Tom left the goblins be. He also didn’t try to discover which Weasley was feeding information to Bill. One or more of them was, but punishing any of them for it would upset Ginevra.

Ginevra being happy meant more to Tom now than even his own immortality. The irritation of dealing with prolonged rebellion was nothing next to that.

Ginevra seemed pleased to have her brothers taken seriously as threats. Many of Tom’s minions had found offering respect to any Weasley terribly difficult. Ginevra had had to take serious steps in several cases. Lucius Malfoy hadn’t been able to speak for several months, and the Lestrange woman still fled when Ginevra entered the room.

Ginevra enjoyed taking those serious steps. She said that focusing on something that small for a while relaxed her and helped her to solve real problems.

So Tom made sure she always had something small on hand.

By now, most people believed that Ginevra stood second to Tom, that he indulged her whims out of sheer fondness. Neither Ginevra nor Tom ever let anyone else guess that she ruled him, that she indulged his whims out of fondness. 

She had found three of his horcruxes and coaxed the bits of his soul out so that he could eat them. Their mutual power had grown with every destroyed horcrux, but Tom had gotten no closer to independence.

And, really, he no longer wanted to.

Not that he hadn’t been terrified when she started using her power over him. She had lost the naivete that had let him deceive her when she was eleven and understood him better than anyone else ever had. Somehow, he’d missed the fact that she wasn’t eleven anymore.

She looked at him and saw him, not a half-blood orphan, not the Dark Lord, not a monster, not a stepping stone to further power, just Tom. And she wanted Tom, wanted him in every way she could get him, including sexually.

Thinking of her as a child had protected him briefly simply because he in no way found children attractive and because, had anyone else harmed the child she had been, Tom would never have allowed that person the release of death. Caring about, wanting to protect someone, had been a novelty. A weakness, yes, except that her abilities had been growing formidable.

And realizing that her abilities had grown forced him to accept that she had matured in other ways. That removed the last of his ability to refuse.

Ginevra wasn’t particularly bothered by the fact that Tom had wanted to say no to her advances, and he recognized that he’d taught her that-- to take what she wanted without fear of being judged. That she seemed to assume that he wouldn’t punish her for it told him that she had realized that he couldn’t.

Or maybe she realized that part of him didn’t want to say no, that part of him would revel in kneeling at her feet, at putting what pleased her ahead of what pleased him. No one else would have seen that. He hadn’t. It ran contrary to everything he knew about himself.

He shouldn’t have enjoyed eating her out while knowing that she would deny him his own orgasm. He shouldn’t have enjoyed the small pains that she used to remind him of his helplessness or the larger pains she used to force him to beg for relief when she had no intention of giving it.

But he wanted it all, more than he’d ever wanted anything else except immortality.

Now, it was simply the way things were, and Tom eagerly anticipated time alone with his lady. He hadn’t forgotten that, if she wished, he could be one of the toys she used and discarded or used and destroyed, but he trusted her with that power.

He had never trusted anyone before. He had never expected to be able to.

Ginevra would accept nothing less.

This evening, he managed to slip away from the reception fully half an hour before he expected her to. He went straight to their rooms to make sure his surprise was both awake and perfectly displayed.

When Ginevra came in, she stopped in the doorway to study her present. Then she looked at Tom and gave him a smile that said that she was very pleased indeed. She closed the door behind her and took slow, even steps into the room. She viewed the bound, kneeling figure from all angles, circling him three times. She crooked a finger at Tom. “What have you given him, pet?”

Tom crossed the room to kneel at Ginevra’s feet. “Nothing, my lady.” He’d been sure she’d want to play with Harry Potter, but he hadn’t been entirely sure how. Potter had been her first childhood crush. He wasn’t that boy any more, hadn’t been for a long time, but it still mattered. She might want to be kind. Tom would be surprised, but it was possible. He bowed his head. “He can’t hear or see or speak, not yet.”

She put a hand on Tom’s head. “I see.” She sounded thoughtful. She nudged Potter with one slippered toe.

Potter flinched, then froze.

“Have you hurt him?” She might have been talking about whether her tea was hot enough.

“Since we captured him? Not beyond the necessary. Not physically.” Tom supposed that he had hurt Potter many times over the years. How many friends had Potter seen dead or broken? How many times had he been betrayed and why? “I only hurt him enough to let him know what disobedience meant. A few seconds of the Cruciatus. I wanted you to be able to make all the decisions.”

She wrapped her fingers in Tom’s hair and tugged just enough to hurt. “Very good.” She smiled down at Tom. “You’re wearing too much,” she said gently. “I want you as naked as he is.”

Tom immediately began to strip. He put his clothing aside carefully because Ginevra didn’t like that sort of untidiness.

“I want you next to him and in the same position but not touching him.”

Tom swallowed hard. He wasn’t sure how much of what he felt was arousal and how much was relief that he’d put Potter in a position that would be easy enough to copy. He dared a glance at his lady’s face, and she smiled at him, touching his cheek with the back of one hand.

“I expect most of the pain tonight will be his.” She sounded thoughtful. “Not too much, though, not unless he fights.” She sighed and stepped closer to Potter. She bent enough to put fingers under his chin. With her other hand, she pushed his hair off his forehead so that she could trace his scar with one finger. “What did you do with his glasses?”

“Everything he had, including the sword, is in a trunk in the closet. He didn’t have much else, but the trunk was easiest to seal against anyone else getting in.” Tom was certain Ginevra knew what might happen if Potter retrieved either his wand or the sword of Gryffindor. The wand would be worthless to anyone else, but the sword might serve another master. 

He knelt next to Potter, leaving a careful ten inches between them. He put his arms behind him and pressed his hands against his ankles to put a little arch into his back. He parted his legs enough to make it obvious he couldn’t guard himself that way.

Ginevra came down low enough to kiss Tom deeply. “Thank you.” The words were the barest breath in his ear. She kissed him again then nipped at the throat he exposed to her. One of her hands reached down and caressed Tom’s half hard cock. She laughed softly. “You’re enjoying this.”

Tom met her eyes and smiled before looking at his knees. “I always do.” Even when it hurt, her pleasure carried him to his own.

“I would rather not have to kill him.” She kept her hand on Tom’s cock. “I will if I have to.”

“I’ll do it.” Tom thought that the obvious solution if Potter needed to die.

“We’ll see.” She kissed him again, taking her time about it. “If my family wouldn’t see, if it wouldn’t break Mum’s heart, I’d show Harry off once he’s broken. He’d be very attractive kneeling naked by our thrones. We could polyjuice him, I suppose, but that wouldn’t be the same sort of thing. I want everyone, everyone except Mum and Dad, to know that I-- that we-- brought him down.” She traced a finger along Tom’s jaw. “Do you want to fuck him?”

He turned to kiss her finger. “Would it please you?”

“Very much.” She stood and started to walk away. She stopped but didn’t turn back. “Don’t hurt him too much, Tom. I want him to scream, eventually, but not for this. His hope is mine. Not yours.”

Tom stretched then turned toward Potter. He took a few moments to trace the scars visible on Potter’s torso. Each was, he knew, a near escape, a spell that might have killed but didn’t. Scars that weren’t magical would have faded far more than these had. Potter wasn’t particularly tall, but he had the muscle of someone who relied on the strength of his body for every second of survival.

Potter trembled under Tom’s hands, and Tom wondered if the other man guessed what was coming. Potter couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, couldn’t speak, and had no idea at all where he was.

“Should I take the spells off of him?” Tom didn’t care either way.

Ginevra hesitated noticeably, and Tom wondered if she didn’t want Potter to know this about her. Eventually she shrugged. “As well now as later. No.” For a moment, just the barest split second, she looked sad. “Don’t let him speak.” She turned away for a moment. “I don’t want him calling me Ginny.” When she turned back, her face was hard.

Tom wasn’t sure what to do. He’d only seen her look like that twice. Once after a screaming fight with her mother, and then, later, when Ron had attacked her.

Tom undid the spell on the earplugs and tugged them out. Then he undid the spell sealing Potter’s eyelids.

Potter’s eyes opened wide. He flinched at the light and squeezed the lids shut again. He blinked several times as he tried to get used to light again.

Tom squeezed Potter’s arm. “You’re lucky, Harry. My lady likes the look of you. Please her, and she’ll let you live.”

Potter turned to look at Tom and snarled silently. Then he saw Ginevra, and all color drained from his face. He shook his head and started pulling against the cords that bound him.

“I’d like some sound,” Ginevra said. “If the spell is flexible enough. Just not words.”

Tom couldn’t help giving her a slightly offended look. As if he weren’t capable of that!

She laughed briefly and inclined her head in apology.

“I could probably limit his vocabulary. With time and a bit of experimentation.” Tom was pretty sure she’d want Potter to speak eventually. He didn’t wait for her response, just bent to the task of altering the silence spell. It was finicky work, especially without a wand in hand, and he was pretty sure that Ginevra would be beyond displeased if he damaged Potter permanently right then.

“Harry,” Ginevra said softly, “you’ve given us a lot of trouble. You must have known you’d lose, but you did it anyway. Did you think there wouldn’t be a place for you in our world?”

Potter looked as if his heart was breaking. He gasped a little then let his chin rest on his chest.

“It could have been much more pleasant for you than this,” Ginevra went on. “Tom and I will enjoy tonight. Someday, you may enjoy it, too, but I doubt it will be today.” She looked at Tom. “We might keep him a very, very long time. Even if he bores us--” She hesitated for several seconds then added, “He’s a horcrux.”

Tom felt his belly turn to ice. It made sense that Potter would be, but why hadn’t they known before? He studied Potter and wondered if that made Potter another version of Tom or of the old, failed Voldemort. Was that why Potter had fought so hard? Had he known?

And Ginevra had considered not telling Tom at all.

“We might be able to use it to bind him to us.” Ginevra shrugged. “It would take time and research.”

Tom heard the question implicit in her words. He studied Potter.

The other man was staring at Ginevra. He didn’t look nearly as terrified as he ought to have been, so Tom rather thought that he had no idea what she was talking about.

Tom licked his lips. “Subservient?”

Ginevra gave him a smile sharp enough to cut. “I’m not putting him over you.”

Tom nodded. “I’d kill him first.” He was pretty sure that Ginevra knew that already, but he felt that he had to draw that line in the sand.

“I’m not sure what that would do. I’m not sure what removing it would do, either. It’s not as if anyone has experimented with that.”

Potter was paying close attention and frowning. He looked from Tom to Ginevra and back again. He opened his mouth as if to speak then shook his head in frustration when he couldn’t make any words come out.

Tom poked Potter hard in the side. “You don’t get a say. You get to obey Lady Ginevra and hope she’s feeling kind.”

“He’s to obey you, too, Tom.”

Tom could almost see preconceived notions falling apart and rearranging themselves in Potter’s head. “At least, you’re not entirely stupid,” he told the other man. Of course, it remained to be seen whether or not Potter was capable of acting on his new understanding.

“Tom and I are partners,” Ginevra said evenly.

Tom laughed. “No one believes that at first, and they all assume that she’s my bit of fluff.” He knew Ginevra found that amusing. “I suppose that makes it worse when they find her foot on their throats.”

She smiled warmly. “It is much sweeter that way.” She looked at Potter. “Do you mind my foot on your throat, Harry?”

The promise and threat in her voice made Tom shiver. He had plenty of experience with what came after that.

Potter looked like he’d been hit by a bludger. He blinked twice and opened and closed his mouth. The sound that came out might have been protest, might have been acknowledgement. After a few seconds, he appeared to pull himself together. He looked directly at Ginevra, shook his head, and then lowered his eyes.

Tom suspected a calculated surrender rather than a true one, but he supposed that would do. For the moment. “Our lady wants to see me fuck you,” he told Potter as he ran a hand over Potter’s chest.

Potter shuddered and closed his eyes, but he nodded.

Tom pulled Potter’s face toward him and kissed Potter. The angle was awkward and probably strained the other man’s neck, but it gave Ginevra the best view. He could feel the tension, the resistance, in Potter’s body. Tom smiled and ran his tongue over Potter’s lips.

Potter tensed even more, then slowly relaxed enough to part his lips. There was no mistaking his response for enthusiasm, but he was cooperating.

After the kiss, Tom spent a while proving to Potter that there wasn’t any part of his body that Tom couldn’t touch. Ginevra usually enjoyed the sort of helpless shame that elicited, and judging by her current expression, this pleased her, too. 

Tom took care never to cross from the slightly uncomfortable to the actually painful, and he rather liked the way that Potter reddened and bit his lip when something felt really good. When Potter actually moaned, Ginevra made a sharp noise that Tom recognized as her response to something she hadn’t expected to arouse her.

“Close your eyes,” Tom told Potter. 

Potter stared at him with something close to panic.

“No harm this time.”

Potter nodded sharply and closed his eyes. 

Ginevra blew Tom a kiss and hiked up her robes so that she could touch herself.

Tom spent the next fifteen minutes using every trick he knew to elicit moans of pleasure from Potter without-- quite-- getting him off.

Potter writhed against the cords that still bound his wrists to his ankles, and the sight of that appealed even more to Ginevra than the moaning had. Potter couldn’t have helped but hear the sounds that Ginevra was making. He responded to each with an adorable, little flinch.

Tom kept going until Ginevra got herself off. When she’d had time to come back to herself, he raised his eyebrows and pointed at Potter with his chin.

She licked her lips. “I want to see him come, Tom.” The words were clear and imperious, and Tom knew they were intended more for Potter than for him.

Potter had to learn how little he mattered.

Potter actually tried to fight orgasm. He set his teeth and shook his head when Tom took his cock into his mouth to hurry things along.

Tom was pretty sure that Potter was beyond thinking, that the resistance was some sort of deeply instinctive attempt to deny his fate.

“Harry,” Ginevra said. “Harry, I want what’s mine.” There was no gentleness, no give in her tone. “Do you think you have a choice?”

Potter came with a sound that was part pleasure and part horror.

Tom pulled away quickly. He had no interest in letting Potter ejaculate in his mouth.

Potter’s eyes were still tightly shut. Tom thought that had more to do with Potter not wanting to see the reality of where he was, of what was happening, than with obedience to Tom’s earlier order.

Potter made no effort to resist when Tom untied him and moved him to stand next to a chair. He tensed when Tom pushed his upper body down across the chair, but he didn’t actually resist. He only tried to pull back when ropes snaked up the legs of the chair and across the arms and seat to hold Potter’s body bent with his ass sticking out.

Tom glanced at Ginevra, more out of habit than because he had any doubt that her magic had animated the ropes.

She beckoned Tom over and, when he came near, stood to kiss him. Her hands caressed his torso and squeezed his ass. “I want to play with him,” she murmured. “I want to see you fuck him, but… I want you right now, too.”

Tom kissed his way down her neck to the hollow of her collarbone. “He’s not going anywhere,” he said softly. “We have him as long as you want.” He pushed thoughts of the horcrux complication out of his head.

“Yes.” She cupped a hand on the back of Tom’s head, holding him pressed against the cloth covering her breasts.

He inhaled deeply, enjoying the scent of her.

“Would you rather get off with me or with him?” Her hand fell to her side.

That required no thought at all. “With you.” He straightened so that she could see his face.

She laughed. The sound was a little breathless, and he was thrilled to know that he was responsible. She put her arms around him. “I don’t regret you,” she told him. She glanced over at Potter. “He’s a might have been of sorts, but I never actually knew him. He’s an excellent gift, and I might become more than fond of him, but… Don’t ever think I’m sorry for any of it, that I’d rather have… that.”

Tom shook a little as he inhaled. For a moment, he couldn’t find the words to respond. Then he said, “You can have… that, too. If you want.”

“The horcrux has interesting possibilities. The bit in the bottle responds to your moods. I expect his might, too, if we pull on it correctly.”

He didn’t like how clinical she sounded, so he nuzzled her throat in an effort to get back to what really interested him. His fingers closed on the fabric of her robe and tugged a little.

This time, her laugh was loud and full. “Do you really think you can distract me?”

His answering laugh was much softer. “If you’ll let me try.”

She took one step back and started pulling off her clothing. “I still want to see you fuck him. No mercy,” she said. She reached out and touched Tom’s cheek. “It’s incredibly hot when you’re… powerful. To see that and still know that you’ll surrender to me.” She held Tom’s eyes for several seconds then glanced at Potter. “He has long term advantages. For us, at least. I want to see what I can do to you through him or him through you. If he becomes boring--” She shrugged a now bare shoulder, and Tom gave more attention to the curve of her breast than to her words.

It took a moment for him to realize that she expected a response. He glanced at Potter and realized that the other man was listening and probably trying to guess what all of this meant for his future. Did Potter realize how quickly he’d come to adore Ginevra? If that was what she wanted, at any rate, which Tom was almost certain it was. “I think he’s smarter than that.” Tom made sure that he spoke clearly. He wanted Potter to understand. “The other alternative is a cage, alone, for the rest of his very, very long life. I don’t think his mind would last long that way.”

Potter made a choked noise that was soft enough that they might not have heard it if they hadn’t been listening for it. He couldn’t see them, so he didn’t see the smiles they exchanged.

Both of them made sure that there were plenty of sounds of pleasure for Potter to hear as they made love out of his line of sight. Tormenting him wasn’t the point, but it was easy enough.

They had food and wine after. Ginevra gave Potter some water and a little fruit and touched his face gently, as if she were already fond of him. 

Potter made small noises of gratitude and tried to nuzzle her fingers. When she walked away, he looked bereft. He flinched when Tom put a firm hand on his back. He sighed and visibly forced himself to relax. He made no protest when Tom started working fingers into his ass, and although Tom certainly hurt him, he didn’t struggle when Tom started fucking him.

Ginevra walked around them, stopping occasionally when the view from a particular spot caught her attention. Tom could tell that she was aroused by what she saw, and knowing that he’d soon be on his knees, eating her out, made him eager to be done with Potter.

Except that Ginevra wanted to see this. Tom intended to keep driving into Potter’s ass until Ginevra told him to stop.

She stopped in front of Potter and bent down to touch his cheek. When she straightened, she rubbed her thumb and fingers together in a way that told Tom that Potter’s face was wet. She looked down at Potter for a moment then met Tom’s eyes. “I think I do want to hear him scream,” she said.

Tom knew that was a test for Potter more than for him, but he dug his fingers into Potter’s hips as hard as he could so that Potter could use the additional pain to give their lady what she wanted. He had no idea if Potter would see that as the kindness it was.

Potter’s scream was more theatrical than agonized, and Ginevra frowned, eyes narrowing. Tom saw the moment when she decided to let Potter get away with it.

“That’s enough, Tom.”

Tom went still. When he was sure he had control of himself, he pulled out and stepped back.

“Go and wash.”

Tom obeyed.

When he came back, Potter was on the bed, flat on his back, with Ginevra sitting on his face. Tom had to push down disappointment that he wasn’t going to get her off. He comforted himself with the memory of her earlier words about not regretting ending up with him and walked over to the bed. He sat next to Ginevra and Potter and started stroking her back.

She pushed into his touch then reached over to grab his hair and pull him closer. They kissed and caressed each other until Potter managed to get her off. After that, they slept. Ginevra let Potter sleep, hands still bound because they all knew he’d try to kill Tom and Ginevra if he could, across the foot of their bed. Ginevra even had Tom put a blanket over Potter.

Tom was quite sure Potter didn’t understand the extent of that kindness.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry was pretty sure he didn’t want this. He was equally sure that wanting or not wanting meant nothing. He wasn’t sure how long it had been since his capture, but he was sure it was measured in months.

Harry knew he was lucky. Lady Ginevra-- not Ginny. Never Ginny-- and Tom could do anything to him, anything at all, but they hadn’t killed him or maimed him or taken his memories. They could, and none of the three of them ever pretended they couldn’t, but they almost always petted and cuddled him once the screaming and the begging and the blood were over.

He was bored a lot of the time when they had business elsewhere, but bored was better than-- better than-- 

He was lucky. Really. He held onto that during the long hours alone. It didn’t keep him from trying the door occasionally or from trying to open the window. He didn’t expect to find a way out, but he couldn’t quite give up looking. Giving that up would be admitting that the person he used to be was gone.

This evening, Lady Ginevra was working on some sort of ritual. She had Harry and Tom kneeling, naked, in the middle a section of stone floor that she’d had them clear of all furniture and coverings. She’d left Harry conscious but unable to speak or move, and he knew that was a very, very bad sign.

Tom seemed to know what Lady Ginevra was doing. He had made some comments on runes and spell design that Harry was certain would have meant something to Hermione-- and he tried not to wonder if Hermione was still alive-- but meant nothing at all to him.

Since he couldn’t do anything else, Harry closed his eyes and tried to breathe evenly. He had to wait quite a long time before Lady Ginevra touched him. When she did, he tried to flinch, tried to shudder, but couldn’t. He was able to tighten his jaw a little and to squeeze his eyes more tightly shut.

Lady Ginevra laughed. She ran fingers down Harry’s chest. “I think you’ll be happier after, Harry. This will bind you to us forever.”

Harry felt a sick churning in his stomach and was glad he hadn’t eaten in hours. He didn’t want to find out what would happen if he got sick under these circumstances. It wasn’t as if he had had any choice at all since Tom gave him to Lady Ginevra. This was just more of that.

Her finger touched his forehead. It felt wet. She traced some sort of pattern there, and when she was done, Harry felt his awareness starting to tangle on itself. It didn’t hurt, at least.

She repeated the process on the back of Harry’s neck, and this time it did hurt. It was almost as bad as the Cruciatus.

Harry stopped breathing for a moment as he fought to scream. As the pain faded, he thought he felt something tugging gently on his mind or maybe on his soul, and that frightened him. He’d hoped-- Well, he’d stopped hoping, actually. He’d thought he had, anyway.

She traced symbols on the soles of both of Harry’s feet, and energy ran through his body that felt rather like being electrocuted except that it went on and on. He thought his bones were burning or melting and then reforming themselves somehow. He completely lost track of what else she was doing.

Later, he thought he might have passed out. When his mind started to work again, he could tell that things were different, that his magic was flowing in ways he wasn’t used to, that something in his head that had always been other had fused with the part he had always thought of as really himself.

He could move again, so he curled up on the floor. He didn’t open his eyes. He knew that reality would come for him soon, but he wanted to cling to the idea that he still had something for himself.

_//Harry.//_

It was very clearly Tom’s voice, but Harry was hearing it in his head. Harry shuddered and pressed his hands against his ears.

Someone lifted his head, and he found himself with his head in Lady Ginevra’s lap. He was sure it was hers because he felt cloth and because she and Tom always smelled different. A hand stroked his hair.

“You were ours before,” Lady Ginevra said. “I know you knew that.” She pinched his earlobe lightly. “We waited until you couldn’t deny it any longer. I wanted that to come without the magic.”

The darkness and threat in her tone made Harry shudder. He thought about begging, but he had no idea what she was threatening him with or whether she actually wanted begging.

_//You can’t hide from us in here any more.//_ Tom’s voice echoed in Harry’s head again.

Lady Ginevra ran a hand across Harry’s chest and pinched one nipple. Her fingernails dug in hard enough that he was sure she’d drawn blood.

Harry gasped. He felt the pain, and he felt the pain echoing, away from him and then back again.

Tom gasped, too.

“Good.” Lady Ginevra sounded pleased. “Is it good for you, Tom?”

Tom didn’t answer for a moment. “Yes, my lady.” He sounded absolutely certain. “Will I always--?”

“If I want you to.” Lady Ginevra laughed. “I think not if I don’t.” She ran a finger over Harry’s Adam’s apple. “You can probably keep him out most of the time with occlumency.”

“When you say I may.”

Harry knew them well enough by now to realize that Tom was very turned on. After a moment, he realized that he could feel that from Tom, too. He wondered if he could speak now. He wondered if he should even if he could. He expected that Lady Ginevra had wanted that to happen, too.

“It will be all right now, Harry.” Lady Ginevra’s hands were gentle on his body. “You’ll feel good when I’m happy, just because I’m happy, no matter what else is going on. You’ll want that enough to do anything to please me. It won’t be just because you have no choice.”

Harry knew that was a lie, but he wasn’t fool enough to say it. A magical binding making him want it wouldn’t mean he had a choice. But he might be able to forget that he didn’t want-- hadn’t wanted-- it. He tried to press his face against her hand to show that he was listening.

She leaned down and kissed him, something she almost never did. “We belong to you, now, too. Losing you would be like cutting off a hand.” She stroked his face. After almost a minute, she said, “Once you really understand… Yes. Perhaps. When you’re done fighting, I might let you have a wand. I might let you leave these rooms.”

Harry went completely still. He wanted that. He wanted all of that.

But he also knew that it meant that everything he had hoped for was gone. He shuddered and felt tears in his eyes. “Yes, Lady Ginevra,” he whispered. He was pretty sure all three of them knew it was a true surrender, a final surrender.

Maybe it was for the best.


End file.
